


ripped at every edge (but you’re a masterpiece)

by stonesnuggler



Series: colors [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Intercrural Sex, Light Praise Kink, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonesnuggler/pseuds/stonesnuggler
Summary: It’s quiet for a beat, but at the same time as Connor makes an impatient noise, Dylan says, “I’m leaving for Phoenix in an hour.”Connor blinks, Ryan’s eyes get so wide he’s sure they’re about to pop out of his head, and Dylan is beaming as he watches the realization take hold.“Shut the fuck up,” Ryan says. “Dylan, are you serious?”“Wait, so that means--” Connor says, and Ryan can see the wheels turning. “Are you--”“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah,” Dylan finishes.[Or: Dylan gets called up just in time to play Ryan and Connor, because of course he does.]





	ripped at every edge (but you’re a masterpiece)

**Author's Note:**

> if you or anyone you know are mentioned in this, set your computer on fire. 
> 
> exactly what's on the tin, so heed the tags. let me know if i forgot to tag anything!
> 
> can't be read as a stand alone, as there are references to the first fic in the series!

In their defense, Connor and Ryan had no idea Dylan would call at this exact moment. Ryan doesn’t remember scheduling a Facetime date, and evidently neither does Connor, but they do tend to get a little screwy with time-zone changes. 

Anyway, that doesn’t negate the fact that they’re currently -- ahem -- in the middle of something, and that’s  _ definitely  _ Dylan’s ringtone coming from the general direction of the floor. Ryan couldn’t even tell you whose phone is ringing, considering both his and Connor’s phones are in the back pockets of their jeans, discarded somewhere on the floor. 

Connor draws the short stick, has to get up from where he’s straddling Ryan’s hips, doing so with a sigh. He scrambles toward the tone, tossing fabric every which-way before his phone falls from a pocket and hits the ground with a thud. Ryan laughs, breathy and short from where he’s laid out on the bed and Connor flips him off as he swipes to answer the call.

“Is everything okay?” Connor says instantly, shoving Ryan over so he can sit next to him at the head of the bed. Ryan nestles in close, tucks his arm in around Connor’s side, tucks his thumb in the waistband of his boxers. 

Connor turns his phone so both of them are in the frame and Ryan smiles as soon as he sees Dylan. His glow is such a bright yellow that it’s leaving spots in Ryan’s eyes, but it’s such a welcome sight that he doesn’t even mind. 

“Dylan,” Ryan says, eyes wide as he reads him. “What’s going on --” 

Dylan smirks, raises his eyebrows. “Maybe I should tell you later,” he says, tilting his head a little. “Seems like you were a little busy.” 

Ryan can feel his face flushing an even deeper red, smile coming to his cheeks. 

“Uh-uh, you’re not getting off that easy,” Connor says and Dylan laughs, bright and happy. 

“Neither are you two, looks like,” says Dylan, still laughing, phone shaking with it.

Ryan can’t help but laugh at that, and god, he’s missed this kid. 

“Come on, Dyl,” Connor prods, and Dylan smiles wide again. 

It’s quiet for a beat, but at the same time as Connor makes an impatient noise, Dylan says, “I’m leaving for Phoenix in an hour.” 

Connor blinks, Ryan’s eyes get so wide he’s sure they’re about to pop out of his head, and Dylan is beaming as he watches the realization take hold.

“Shut the fuck up,” Ryan says. “Dylan, are you serious?”

“Wait so that means--” Connor says, and Ryan can see the wheels turning. “Are you--”

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah,” Dylan finishes. 

“Holy fuck,” Connor says. “I’m  _ so  _ fucking  _ proud _ of you.”

Dylan smiles, looks down at his lap. The tips of his ears have gone red and Ryan’s heart is so warm. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Ryan says, tests the words. “Holy shit.”

“It’s a good thing you guys are hockey players and not children’s authors,” Dylan says, looking up again.

“Fuck off,” Connor and Ryan say in unison.

“Love you, too,” says Dylan. 

There’s a pause where they’re all just smiling at each other like idiots before a smirk makes it’s way to Connor’s lips, before Ryan’s find their way to Connor’s shoulder. 

“So,” he says, “you said you were leaving in an hour?” 

 

/ 

 

Arizona’s plane touches down at 8pm Monday night and Ryan and Connor are so excited that they can almost feel the wheels touch down from across the city. It’s weird to mull around, twiddling their thumbs waiting for a text that could come in five or ten or --

Ryan’s phone buzzes in his hand.

 

**Group:**

**Pickle || 11/26 || 8:04p**

meet me at the hotel in 20??

 

“Connor, we gotta go,” Ryan calls, rinsing off his toothbrush and putting it back in the cup. “Your hair is fine.” 

Connor pops his head into the en suite, fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves. “I wasn’t worrying about my hair,” he says, buttoning one more button on his shirt. Ryan resists the urge to reach out and undo it. 

Instead, he hums, gives Connor an obvious once-over. “You look nice. Hot date tonight?”

“Something like that,” Connor says, hip-checks Ryan out of the way to give his hair one final check. It really is fine, but Ryan takes the opportunity to get behind Connor, wrap his arms around his waist, press a kiss to Connor’s neck.

“We do really have to go,” Ryan says, letting go of Connor, and then they’re on their way soon after.

By the time they pull up to Dylan’s hotel, Ryan can’t stop bouncing his leg from his spot in the passenger’s seat. 

“You’re shaking the whole fucking car,” Connor says, fits his palm heavy above Ryan’s knee, effectively stopping the movement. “It’s just Dylan.” 

Ryan knows. He  _ knows  _ okay, but that doesn’t stop the thrum of adrenaline under his skin, and judging by how warm Connor’s hand is where it’s pressed into his leg, Connor’s feeling the same thing.

“I know,” he says, “I just -- I missed him.” 

“I know,” Connor parrots, and Ryan knows that, too. 

They’re both fiddling with their phones when there’s a knock at the window, causing them both to jump and triggering laughter from outside the car. 

“Jesus  _ Christ,  _ Dylan,” Connor breathes, unlocking the doors to let Dylan in. 

Ryan turns around, gets a look at Dylan as he gets situated and he just  _ knows  _ his face is doing something stupid. 

“Hey, losers,” Dylan says, entirely straight faced for a fraction of a second before he breaks into a wide grin. “Where are we eating?” 

In the driver’s side, Connor snorts, throws the car in drive. “One track mind.” 

“Nah,” Ryan says, turning back around. “I’d say at least two tracks.” 

“What’s the other one?” Connor asks, regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth. 

“Sex,” Ryan and Dylan say in unison, and Connor groans as they laugh. 

“You literally chose this,” Ryan says, pokes at Connor’s thigh.

Connor stops at a red light, looks at Dylan through the rearview, looks at Ryan to his right.

“Yeah,” he says easily. “I did.” 

 

//

 

They end up going to Ryan’s favorite restaurant, nothing more exciting than a steakhouse that Connor showed him when he first came to Edmonton. It’s good, and it’s easy, because it’s  _ them _ , but Ryan misses seeing Dylan’s glow. He doesn’t realize that he’s scowling at the tungsten band on Dylan’s finger until Dylan flicks him. 

“Knock it off,” Dylan says, and Ryan huffs a sigh. 

“Soon,” Connor promises, kicks at Ryan’s shins under the table. 

Connor’s right, because the waitress comes by soon after, disappears quickly with Connor’s credit card in hand. 

As soon as it’s back in his wallet, they’re on their way home -- Ryan with the keys in hand, Connor and Dylan in the back seat. 

“I don’t remember signing up to be the chauffeur,” Ryan says, sneaking a peek in the rearview mirror. They’re cuddled up, as far as Ryan can see, Dylan’s head nestled into the crook of Connor’s neck. 

Connor presses a kiss to Dylan’s hair. “Deal with it. You love driving the Rover.”

Ryan laughs, just once. “You’re right.”

 

/

 

The door shuts behind them and Dylan’s barely got time to take his coat off before Connor’s got him pressed against it, Ryan behind him tugging them all close. 

“Hey,” Dylan says, a ghost of a breath away from Connor’s lips. Ryan’s pressing easy kisses to the side of Connor’s neck, and he feels more than hears Connor hum before closing the gap between them.   
  
Dylan hums, lets his hands move from where they’ve settled at Connor’s hips up to grab at Ryan’s arms, pull them all impossibly closer. 

“Bed,” Ryan says, punctuates it with a nip to Connor’s pulse point. “Now.”

“Bossy,” Dylan taunts, a little breathless, a little muffled where his lips are still against Connor’s. 

“You love it,” Connor says with an easy laugh, and, well. He’s right. 

Ryan means it when he says  _ now _ though, pulls Connor off of Dylan and pushes him toward the hallway before taking Dylan’s hand. 

They’ll have to go back and collect the array of clothing strewn down the hallway later, but it’s worth it when Ryan sees that Dylan and Connor are already mostly naked when they make it to their bedroom. 

Ryan’s mouth waters at the sight of them; Connor and the scruff trailing down his neck, the flush spreading across his chest. Dylan next to him, all tan skin and easy smiles and fluffy hair. He loves them, loves that he can have this.

“Gonna join us, or…” Connor says, lets his fingers dance over the new definition in Dylan’s abs. He sees Dylan shiver, watches his smile turn from sweet to sultry, but there’s something missing.

“When you take your blockers off, then sure,” Ryan says, tugs his shirt over his head before unzipping his pants, stepping out of them. 

Dylan and Connor both slip their blockers off their fingers, move in opposite directions to set them on opposite nightstands where they fall with a clatter. Slowly but surely, yellows and pinks and reds start to brighten around them, connecting everywhere Connor’s skin is on Dylan’s. It’s beautiful, like them, and Ryan’s chest feels tight. 

Dylan’s eyes are closed, and Ryan takes the opportunity to climb into bed with the two of them, link his fingers with Connor over Dylan as he presses kisses into Dylan’s neck.

He hums, lets his hand come out from behind his head and threads his fingers through the short strands of Ryan’s hair. 

“Missed you,” Dylan says, a little breathless, almost soft enough where Ryan wouldn’t have heard. “Missed this.” 

“Love you,” Ryan says, nips carefully at the hinge of Dylan’s jaw. 

Next to them, Connor slips out of his briefs, rejoins them saying, “Your show today, Dyls.” 

Dylan hums contentedly, scratches at the nape of Ryan’s neck. Ryan looks up, sees Dylan’s eyes fluttering open for just a second before he fits his lips to Dylan’s. 

It doesn’t take long for Ryan to get caught up in the feeling of Dylan’s lips against his, to find himself half on top of Dylan -- well, as much as he can be what with Connor working Dylan’s boxers down and off his hips. 

“You, too,” Dylan says against Ryan’s lips, snapping the waistband of Ryan’s boxers against his hip. “Come on, Ry.” 

“Now who’s bossy,” Ryan says with an easy laugh, earning himself a nip to his lower lip. He pulls away just enough to push his boxers down, toss them to the floor before getting his lips back on Dylan’s. 

When they pull back for air, Ryan catches Connor’s eye, sees the edge of something in the gleam of it. 

“How do you want us, Dyl?” Connor asks, and Dylan groans, let’s his head fall back against the headboard with a soft  _ thunk _ . 

“Can’t get too intense,” Ryan notes, runs his hand along Dylan’s side, down over his hip. “Want to give you a fighting chance in the game.

“Fuck off,” Dylan breathes, no fire behind it, especially because Connor is mirroring Ryan’s actions on Dylan’s other side. “God, I don’t care just-- Something.”

Connor laughs then, easy against Dylan’s collarbone, sucking a light mark that will fade before Dylan even gets on the ice tomorrow night. Dylan moans, low and in his throat, and Ryan knows Connor’s using the barest hint of teeth, a gentle thing that drives Dylan absolutely wild. 

“Want us to--” Ryan starts, at the same time that Connor goes, “We’re gonna blow you.” 

Dylan swears under his breath, and his glow goes bright red, along with the apples of his cheeks. “Thought it was my show,” he says, voice a little tight, and Ryan smiles.

“Are you complaining?” 

Dylan laughs, once, breathy. “God, no.” 

“Then shut your mouth,” Ryan says, kisses Dylan one more time before he and Connor meet at Dylan’s hips. 

Dylan’s well on his way to fully hard, flushed red at the tip and Connor doesn’t hesitate taking him in hand and working him over. Ryan settles near Dylan’s hips, pressing easy kisses to the muscle near his hip bone, so close but still so far from where Dylan wants him, where he wants to be. Connor moves to mirror Ryan’s position, still jacking Dylan off easily. 

He looks at Ryan, the shortest second of eye contact before they’re kissing over Dylan’s hips, quick and messy. They pull back at the sound of Dylan sighing, the impatient twitch of his hips. He’s got an arm tossed over his eyes, the sunset of his glow burning bright and drifting onto Ryan’s skin, onto Connor’s. 

He makes the first move, leans forward and presses a kiss to the head of Dylan’s dick, trails the kisses down the length of him, shooing Connor’s hand further down. Connor swears, low and under his breath before he does the same, starting from the base of Dylan’s dick and trailing kisses higher and higher. 

“Jesus,” Dylan breathes, followed by a moan from Connor. Ryan opens his eyes just enough to see Dylan’s fingers lacing through Connor’s hair. Connor always loves the extra encouragement. 

Connor backs off, jacks Dylan a couple times now that it’s easier with the slide slide of spit, before taking Dylan into his mouth shallowly. Ryan takes the hint, wraps his hand where Connor’s was and moves it in tandem to Connor’s mouth as Connor starts to move his head. Under Ryan’s free hand where it’s pressed into Dylan’s thigh, he can feel Dylan tensing, and he knows that Dylan is trying really hard not to fuck into Connor’s mouth. 

“He can take it, Dyl,” Ryan encourages, and Connor hums. “Your show.” 

Connor and Dylan both moan at that, and Dylan lets his hips move just slightly. Ryan can’t resist joining Connor, kissing wherever he can as they work Dylan over together. 

Connor pulls off, catching his breath for a second before he brings Ryan forward with a hand on the back of Ryan’s neck, kissing him hard and breathless and downright filthy. Ryan makes a noise of surprise, but melts into it, tasting the tang of Dylan on Connor’s tongue. 

“Fuck,” Dylan breathes. Ryan smiles against Connor’s lips, pulls away to clamber up and kiss Dylan once, twice, before taking Dylan into his mouth for himself. Connor meets his lips halfway, jacking what Ryan isn’t taking as Ryan sucks hard, swallows around Dylan.

“Jesus Christ, Ry,” Connor breathes, and Ryan smiles as best as he can. 

Dylan’s hips push forward, just enough where Ryan can just relax his jaw and let Dylan move into his mouth, and Ryan loves it. 

“Shit, wait,” Dylan says, stops his hips. “I’m fine,” he manages, “before you ask. Just need a second.” 

Ryan pulls off, clears his throat, smiles as he presses a kiss to Dylan’s hip. Connor’s hand is still where it’s still wrapped around the base of Dylan’s cock and he can only imagine what Dylan’s reading from them. 

“God, I fucking love you,” Dylan says, let’s his eyes flutter shut, and Ryan supposes that answers that question. There doesn’t need to be a name attached, all of them know that. 

Connor starts moving his hand again, slowly picking the pace back up and Dylan moans, lower lip tucked between his teeth. 

“Come on, babe,” Connor encourages, swipes his thumb over the head of Dylan’s cock, at the precome gathered there. “Missed this.” 

“Fuck,” Ryan breathes, has to grab at the base of his dick, hyper aware at how bad his own need to come is. “Yeah, Dyl.”

“Oh, fuck,” Dylan moans, pushes his hips up into Connor’s hand, chasing the burn in the base of his spine. “Ry, come here.” 

Ryan does, kisses Dylan hard and biting and messy, swallowing the moans that Connor’s pulling out of him. 

“So good, Dylan,” Ryan says as he’s trailing kisses down Dylan’s jaw. “So fucking proud of you.”

Ryan nips lightly at the hinge of his jaw, Connor presses in at the slit of his cock just so, and Dylan swears as he comes, hips stuttering as he spills into Connor’s hand, onto his own stomach.

Ryan kisses him through it until Dylan’s lips go lazy against his, all languid and easy, a sharp contrast to the biting kisses earlier.

“Fucking christ,” he breathes, smiling as he ducks his head away.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Connor chirps, smiling as he climbs up to press a kiss to Dylan’s forehead.

Dylan flips him off weakly before letting his hand fall to his stomach, blinks away the stars in his eyes. 

A minute passes that feels like ten as they exchange easy kisses, Connor and Ryan acutely aware of how turned on they are but more invested in Dylan’s easy hums and soft kisses.

After a while, he pulls back and turns to Ryan. “Wanna fuck my thighs while I blow Connor?” 

“Oh my god,” Ryan says, takes a shaky breath. “God, yeah. Connor?” 

“I’m down,” he says, sharp and wicked smile on his face. “Dyl’s show.” 

Ryan smiles, kisses Dylan one more time before he reaches over to his nightstand to grab the lube. There’s a little bit of shuffling as Connor moves to sit against the headboard, Dylan gets on his hands and knees near Connor’s hips, and Ryan moves behind Dylan. The colors of their glow are so meshed together, coming as one peachy orange that reflects off of the white duvet. It’s overwhelming in the best way, bright and happy and real. 

Dylan wastes no time, swallowing Connor down as far as he can take, and Connor chokes on air, threads his hand through Dylan’s curls. Ryan almost loses track of what he was doing before Dylan hums, pushes his ass back at Ryan and -- god, he wishes they didn’t have a game tomorrow. 

He pours a generous amount of lube into his hand, warms it a bit before spreading between Dylan’s legs, over his own dick where he’s hard and aching. He hisses at the contact just as Connor moans, loud and shameless. Ryan grips at Dylan’s hip and crosses his ankles where they lay between Ryan’s legs. 

Between the moans coming from Connor and the slick, easy pressure he’s pushing into, it’s a wonder that Ryan doesn’t just come on the spot. He manages to keep it together somehow, but makes no promises that there won’t be fingerprint bruises against Dylan’s hips. 

Dylan tenses his thighs, crosses them impossibly closer, and Ryan takes it as the hint that it is, pushes between Dylan’s legs steadily, almost as good as the real thing. 

“So fucking amazing, Dyl,” Connor is saying, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair. Dylan moans as he trails kisses down the side of Connor’s cock, jacking him as he tries to catch his breath. “Love you so much.”

“Fucking sap,” Ryan pants, and Connor laughs, easy and breathless before it dissolves into a moan

Ryan’s too close to stop now, picks up the pace, pushing into the cross of Dylan’s thighs, hips smacking against Dylan’s ass as he does. 

“God,  _ Dylan _ ,” Ryan moans, fucks in once, twice more before he loses his rhythm, hips stuttering as he comes all over Dylan’s thighs, pulling from between them to get the last of his come on Dylan’s ass. He barely hears Dylan moaning around Connor as the blood rushes in his ears.

When Ryan comes back down, he settles next to Connor to get a better view of Dylan. Connor’s got his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, hand almost white-knuckled in Dylan’s hair, and Dylan’s got tears gathering in his eyes.

“Look at him, Con,” Ryan whispers to Connor, pitched just loud enough that he knows Dylan can hear him, too. 

Connor does, looks at Dylan just as Dylan peeks up through tear-clumped lashes, and that’s all it takes before Connor’s stammering out an unnecessary warning, spilling down Dylan’s throat. Dylan swallows as much as he can before he pulls off, clearing his throat as he blinks back extra tears. 

Connor sighs heavily, his glow changing from soft peach to an easy magenta as he does, contentment taking over his face, his body language. It bleeds into Dylan’s easy warm pink where he’s moved between them, and the two pinks dance over Ryan’s skin as Connor and Dylan curl into each other, into him. 

It’s easy to lay there, too hot and too sticky and too much, if only because they all know it’ll be a while until they get this again. 

“We should shower,” Dylan mutters into Ryan’s chest.

Connor hums, tightens his grip on Ryan’s waist, presses a kiss to Dylan’s shoulder. 

“Not yet.”

 

//

 

Richardson and Draisaitl line up for the faceoff, and Dylan hip checks Ryan just barely out of position, earning himself a shove back.

“Watch it, kid,” Ryan says, throws an easy elbow. 

Next to him, Dylan laughs. “Watch yourself.”

Draisaitl wins the faceoff, gets the play going with a pass to Caggiula, but when he tries to pass it to Ryan, Dylan’s right there to intercept it. 

From there, it’s a quick pass to Richardson, back to Dylan who catches Talbot while he’s down in a butterfly. Ryan can’t do anything but watch as Dylan handles, fakes, shoots high glove and sees it hit twine.

He doesn’t really have it in his heart to be upset about it, even if he’s the one that ends the game with a minus this time around.   
  


 

 


End file.
